White Heather for Protection

What You'll Sorely Miss

It had been several weeks since that eventful Occlumency lesson with Professor Snape. Heather had taken the man up on his offer to talk a few times since then. She'd expected it to be awkward meeting after all that, especially to talk about something so sensitive, and in a way, had been. She did feel a little uncomfortable at first, but she soon eased into it.

While she had spoken to Fred and George about the Dursley incident, she hadn't really talked about how she felt, just described what happened. It had been something of a relief to let out all her pent-up frustration, fear and, yes, even hate. It was amazingly cathartic. Professor Snape was a comforting and steady presence by her side as she just ranted on. And she felt much closer to the man after each 'therapy' session.

In fact, there was a whole gamut of emotions she felt around him now. An odd combination of anticipation, nervousness and contentment, to name a few. It was a confusing mix.

She'd first become aware of it during the Yule Ball. Dancing with the Professor had been a great pleasure, even though she'd mostly suggested it as a way to help Rian. She'd felt inordinately tense throughout the evening. Not a bad kind of tense, although she didn't know how 'tense' could be good. It was difficult to explain. If asked about the events during the ball, she wouldn't have been able to mention anything outside of her dances with Professor Snape, so absorbed she had been.

Then there had been that lesson. He'd witnessed some of her more distasteful childhood memories. And then there was that memory. She was ashamed to say that she'd overreacted. Badly. She thought she'd gotten over it long ago. Apparently not. According to the Professor, that was. She'd been afriad the man would be angry for her lapse in control. After all, wasn't that what these Occlumency lessons were for? For her to control her emotions better? Merlin, she was messed up.

Professor Snape hadn't done that, though. He'd comforted her. She could still feel the reassuring weight of his arms around her. His words may have been curt and sharp, but the gentleness of his touch belied them. She hadn't been able to help the sharp pang of disappointment when he let her go.

And the way he said her name. It had been almost...hesitant, which was strange to hear in such a forceful man. She liked it, a little too much. She doubted anyone else could quite say her name with such tenderness and care. It was a pity that he hadn't called her name again, reverting right back to the more proper 'Miss Potter'.

She sighed, staring blankly at her book. Unbeknownst to her, it was the fifth time in as many minutes.

Across from Heather, Fred and George looked at each other. Their friend looked the very picture of a pining maiden.

"Heather!" They snapped their fingers in her face.

Jerking to attention, she looked up at her friends. "What is it?"

"Oh nothing, we just-"

"-interrupted you while-"

"-you were mooning-"

"-over your Half-Blood Prince."

Heather frowned. "No I wasn't. First, I don't know who this Prince is. Second, I do not moon."

"Moon-"

"-daydream-"

"-swoon-"

"-fantasise-"

"-whatever you want to call it."

She most definitely was not. And certainly not about her Prince, either.

~~~

In an abandoned classroom in Gryffindor Tower, green eyes diligently read through the advanced spellbook. So far, none of the spells were useful for what he needed. A hand on his shoulder made him look up. He smiled brightly at the welcome interruption.